


Makeshift

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester's Birthday, Fluff, M/M, happy 40th birthday dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 11:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17528267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: It's Dean's 40th birthday, a major milestone for pretty much everyone, but for Dean it means a little something more.





	Makeshift

Dean had been in a mood all day. Sam knew better than to poke at him about it. They’d been out in the frigid January Minnesota air staking out an old warehouse on the edge of town. Donna had called them in for backup rounding up a couple of Michael’s vampires who’d decided they weren’t ready to go back to hiding in the shadows after their connection to his power was severed. They may not have had Michael’s grace giving them superpowers anymore, but they were still as slippery as any vampires they’d ever dealt with. Old, strong, and worst of all, smart.

Still, though, Cas had been confused by Dean’s grouchiness. He’d woken up that morning in a strange mood, and it had only grown worse and worse all day. Not even the promise of a satisfying end to their miserable hunt had given him the least bit of cheer. They’d spent a frozen dozen hours sitting out in the snow, only to hear from one of Donna’s trusted local informants that the vamps had been spotted leaving town, headed north into the forests that bled into Canada. That had been Dean’s last straw.

Cas could definitely understand his frustration. They’d wasted an entire day while enduring intensely unpleasant circumstances. He and Sam felt that frustration just as acutely as they warmed up in their motel room. But rather than relief at the notion that they may have intimidated the last of Michael’s monsters back into submission, or even contentment at the prospect of a long, hot shower and a warm bed to climb into, Dean seemed almost melancholy, and that was something Cas couldn’t understand. When they’d returned to their motel room, Dean had headed directly for the shower. As soon as the water started up, Cas quietly asked Sam what was wrong.

“It was a bad hunt and a bad day,” Sam said, not looking up from searching through his bag for a warmer pair of socks to wear. “Plus I think he’d probably rather been doing anything else today, you know?”

Cas frowned at that and shook his head. When it was clear that no further explanation was forthcoming, Cas clarified. “No, Sam, I don’t know. Dean usually enjoys hunting, and while I understand today was difficult, I assumed he’d be happier to have been able to help Donna this way, even if we don’t have a pile of dead vampires to show for it.”

Sam looked up at him, holding a fluffy wool sock in each hand, blinking in surprise. There was no way Cas could  _ not _ know it was Dean’s birthday, right? “He turned forty today. That’s a kinda milestone birthday for most people, but I think he hoped to spend it doing something more fun than freezing his ass off in the woods.”

Cas’s bafflement melted into a frown, his eyebrows pinching together. “Yes, he mentioned wanting to cook a big dinner and watch some of his favorite movies. I was surprised enough that he hadn’t wanted to do something more celebratory. But then again, this marks a different sort of milestone for him.”

It was Sam’s turn to frown now, halfway through peeling off his snow-soaked socks. Cas, however didn’t make him ask for clarification.

“He’s been alive on Earth longer than he was in Hell now.”

Sam’s bare foot went clunking to carpet and his mouth dropped open as he blinked up at Cas. “Well, shit.”

Cas took a deep breath. “Do you think we have time to surprise him tonight?”

Sam reached over to Dean’s jacket, draped across a chair, and snagged the car keys. He tossed them to Cas. “I saw a grocery store about half a mile down the road, out toward the highway. Get a case of the good beer, and whatever else you can find that’s festive. After eating cold fast food burgers all day, that’s probably anything in the store. But you know what he likes. And hurry. He’ll be out of the shower soon, and I won’t be able to distract him long.”

Cas gave a terse nod and was out the door like a flash. The store was blessedly uncrowded, but also not terribly well stocked. The locals had picked it over the day before, preparing for the snow that had fallen overnight. At least the roads were clear again, enough for the store to be open at all. He raced through the aisles, gathering snacks, a package of multicolored balloons and an assortment of sparkly cardboard party hats, and hoped Hair Raiser Lager was what Sam had deemed  _ the good beer _ , before heading off toward the bakery in search of the one thing he knew was a birthday tradition.

It wasn’t as if he’d had time to call ahead and place an order, so he was stuck making a selection from the meager pickings available in the grocery store's bakery section. He grabbed a box of tiny candles and a tube of green icing he could use to write the message on top the way he knew it was typically done. He frowned down at his purchases as they crept along the belt at the checkout station. No, on second thought, nothing about this was traditional.

After all his items had been scanned, bagged and paid for, he paused at the end of the counter, opened up the pastry box, and as best he could, added the message,  _ Happy Birthday, Dean.  _ He debated adding some other sort of artwork, but after a moment of indecision, he deferred to making haste and getting back to the motel as quickly as possible.

As soon as he shut off the engine, he knew he’d taken too long. He heard Dean through the door to their room, and suddenly doubted his entire mission.

“So you just sent him out alone, in the dark, in this shitty weather, for fucking  _ snacks _ ?”

“Dean, he offered to go. He was upset that you were having such a bad day, okay? He wanted to cheer you up.”

“Yeah, well, I’d be a lot fucking cheerier if he was _here_ , and not probably flipped over in a snowy ditch, or whatever.”

Sam snorted at that as Cas quickly gathered his shopping bags and the case of beer. He eyed the pastry box sitting carefully on the seat beside him, but decided it would be best to make a second trip back out for it. He needed to reassure Dean that everything was fine. He hadn’t meant to make things even worse.

He hurried to the motel room door, but just as he was about to knock, it flew open to reveal Dean standing there with his coat half on, clearly about to storm out of the room. The moment he saw Cas, it wasn’t anger on his face, though. Cas wasn’t completely sure, but it looked more like profound relief. All of Dean’s distress fled as Cas held out the beer. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and took it from him, stepping back into the room so Cas could enter.

“Hey, you got the good stuff,” Dean said, grinning up at Cas as he knelt down to shove as many of the bottles as he could into the tiny fridge.

Cas set the rest of his bags down on the bed in front of Sam, opening the bag with the balloons and party hats and giving Sam a knowing look. Sam smirked at him and gave an approving nod.

“I have one more thing out in the car. I’ll be right back.”

He returned a moment later with the pastry box, just as Sam crept up behind Dean with a shimmery golden cardboard crown emblazoned  _ King of the Party  _ in rainbow glitter. Dean glanced up to see Cas set the telltale box on the table beside him, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to stretch the crown’s elastic chin strap around Dean’s head.

“Surprise!” Cas said in a moderately enthusiastic tone.

Dean resisted his initial impulse to lash out behind him out of sheer instinct, and instead overbalanced and ended up on his ass on the floor, pawing at his neck where the elastic band had snapped at his skin.

“What the fuck?”

Dean reached up slowly and felt the crown on his head, and pulled it off to see what the hell it was. He read the words, putting the pieces together as Sam handed Cas a conical cardboard hat lined with some sort of fluffy feather shit and a party horn. Cas put the hat on and then examined the horn, his eyes widening as he bent over in front of Dean. He blew into the horn and it unrolled just far enough to whap Dean on the forehead. Cas was just about to apologize, after seeing the flinch in Dean’s eyes, when Dean fell over laughing. Cas and Sam just exchanged a puzzled glance, and Sam shrugged as they watched Dean pour out twelve hours of stress in less than two minutes through the sheer power of laughter. Cas was about to ask if he was okay, but Dean wheezed and choked his way through a few gasps of air and grinned up at him.

“Holy shit, I’d been about to run out in the snow after you, and you were just out happily bringing back the best thing I coulda gotten today. Damn, Cas. You did good.” Dean scrambled to his feet, kicking the fridge shut and handing Sam and Cas each a beer. “But you know that birthday cake doesn’t exactly pair well with beer.”

Cas squinted at Dean and took a sip of his drink. “Then I suspect we should be glad the store was sold out of traditional birthday cake.” He set his bottle down and opened the box, revealing an exquisite Boston cream pie with his hasty birthday message for Dean written in the tidiest frosting handwriting Dean had ever witnessed.

Dean abandoned his own beer to lean over the cake in awe. “Whoa, did you do this?”

“I wrote the message, yes,” Cas replied. “But I bought the cake.”

Dean looked up at him in wonder. “You bought a pie cake for my birthday.”

Cas nodded. “Yes. As well as an assortment of chips and a cheese platter. And some balloons.”

“Don’t forget the hats,” Sam added, scratching at where the elastic band of his pointy hat was digging into his ear.

Dean pulled out his pocket knife and was about to carve into the cake when Cas’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“There are traditions to observe first, Dean.”

He carefully placed four of the tiny candles in the cake and then rummaged in his pockets for a matchbook to light them. Dean added a fifth candle, and Cas squinted at him. Dean just shrugged in response.

“For luck.”

Cas nodded approvingly and lit them. Dean even tolerated Sam and Cas singing Happy Birthday to him, not even laughing at their attempt to harmonize, and then blew them all out.

“I hope you get your wish,” Cas told him quietly while Sam brought over paper plates and plastic forks and began serving up slices.

“I think I might’ve already got it, actually,” he replied, giving Cas an unusually soft and fond look.

Cas stared at him for a moment and then smiled. “Yes, you may have.”

Sam held out a plate for Dean, but Dean was too busy suffering through some sort of mid-life crisis to notice. It may have been the quickest mid-life crisis in history, because seconds later he pulled Cas into a hug. When he didn’t let go, Cas gently patted his back.

Dean muttered into Cas’s neck, clinging to the back of his coat, “I didn’t want to spend this whole day in hell again, so thank you. Thanks for this. For pulling me out the first time, and then pulling me up every time I’ve fallen again since then.”

Cas sighed, holding Dean tighter like he’d done the day he’d pulled Dean from Perdition. “Thank you for doing the same for me, Dean.”

Dean sighed into his neck, lingering for just a moment, but unable to convince himself to push this any further. He wasn’t sure just how far a birthday wish could take him. Even with an extra candle for luck.

“So is this a better birthday now?” Cas asked.

Dean pulled back and looked over to see Sam grinning at them both encouragingly.

“Yeah, it’s definitely getting there.”

It wasn’t his own favorite home cooking, and it wasn’t the comfort of home, but Dean had exactly what he wanted for his birthday. The three of them settled in and watched some dumbass ghost hunters show for a few hours, laughing particularly hard when the guys on screen fled in terror from a building they knew full well hadn’t had a single ghost in it since they’d cleared it out a few years back. A few hours later, after Dean had nodded off with his head on Cas’s shoulder, Cas had to agree. It might not have been perfect, but it was definitely getting there.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I had to drop everything and commemorate Dean's 40th. There will likely be more nonsense on my blog all day. And I mean... like whatever day in the potential future you may be reading this. I am a nonsense-every-day kind of person. Come say hi. I'm [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com)
> 
> [or have a direct link to the post for this fic](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/182266302215/makeshift) :D


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